


All I Need in This Life of Sin is Me and My Girlfriend

by Storyofmythigh



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/F, Girl Direction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-12-03
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-05-04 17:12:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 20,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5341985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Storyofmythigh/pseuds/Storyofmythigh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry blasts music in the early hours of the morning.<br/>Louis brings her back to bed. </p><p>It works until it doesn't, and nothing comes out in the shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Come Away With Me (aka the morning of Norah Jones)

Louis wakes up too early to music that’s too loud. Norah Jones, of all the possible options, is blaring in the next room. She tries to shove her head into her pillow to block out the noise, but it only takes 15 seconds for her to give up, forcing her head up to look blearily around her room. It’s Harry again, she knows. It’s been Harry for the past few weeks. She doesn’t understand where this brand-new, early-morning ritual is coming from, but she’d rather like it to fuck off so she can have a peaceful morning for the first time in a month. 

Louis grumbles to herself, kicking off her warm covers and exposing herself to the harsh winter air. They really need to get the heating fixed. For now, she pulls a sweatshirt on over her sleep shorts, sliding her glasses over her tired eyes as she slowly opens her door to peek into the living room. 

Predictably, she can see a foot dangling off the edge of the couch, indicating that a certain green-eyed, curly-haired person is sprawled out over the cushions. Honestly. It’s 5:23 a.m. and Louis truly has no idea how to make this stop happening. She’s growing more and more frustrated with each day she wakes up before 6 to music blasting in their shared flat. It’s a wonder they haven’t heard more complaints from their neighbors. 

Louis shuffles over to Harry, trying to keep her eyes open and her temper in check. She leans over the back of the couch to peer down at her roommate, who doesn’t yet know she has company, as her eyes are closed. She isn’t asleep, though. Louis’ known Harry since she was 7 and Harry was 5. They’ve probably spent more nights and mornings together than apart. She can tell when Harry’s truly sleeping and when she’s just shut her eyes. 

She quietly picks up Harry’s phone off the coffee table, figuring out that’s what’s hooked up to the speaker currently playing Norah’s lyrical request to come away with her. Louis pauses the music, watching Harry’s eyes open. And oh, but she’s a wreck. It’s one of those mornings, then.

Harry hadn’t taken her makeup off last night, leaving her lips stained darker than their natural pink and her eyes thickly lined, smudged but accented by her ever-growing dark circles. Her skin’s starting to break out again, because lately, she always sleeps in her makeup. Louis tries not to dwell on that right now. That’s a discussion for a later time. 

“Haz, it’s not even 6 yet,” Louis tries gently. Her temper’s gone, as it always is by this point. She just wants to help. She doesn’t feel like she’s any help anymore.

“I don’t care.” Harry’s voice is small, but it’s always rough in the morning. It’s almost too much in the suddenly quiet space between the two girls. Louis loves it all the same, tries not to show a reaction to the way her spine tingles from the low rasp in Harry’s words.

“Have you slept at all?”

Sometimes Harry sleeps. Sometimes she can’t. They’re dealing with it.

“I tried, Lou,” and she sounds so earnest. “I promise I did.”

Louis sighs, because she knows Harry did try. And now that she’s missed another night’s rest, she’s going to be miserable and cranky all day. 

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

Harry’s quiet, looking away from Louis’ accusing gaze. When she doesn’t answer, Louis releases a breath of empathetic exhaustion and reaches out for her hand. 

“Come on, love. It’ll help. You just need to rest a bit.” 

Harry gives her a look of knowing disbelief, but she follows Louis back to her bed anyway, crawling under the still-warm covers with her and curling in close. As they do nearly every morning now, Harry wraps her arms around Louis’ middle and buries her face in her neck, scrunching her eyes shut. Louis runs her fingers through Harry’s curls, trying to soothe her as much as she can.

It didn’t used to be like this. 

When they were small, they shared beds at sleepovers and Harry slept soundly. When they were teenagers, they kept cramming together into sleeping bags and twin mattresses and any space, really, and Harry slept better than on her own. During their first years at uni, in the dorms, they pushed their beds together and Harry slept fitfully before tests, but peacefully every other night. Louis was always happy to have her girl by her side. 

Now, in the flat they share, while they both work day jobs and Louis takes online classes and Harry works on her books, Harry can’t sleep at all. She claims not to know what’s causing it, and Louis wants to believe her because Harry’s never kept secrets before. After she kissed a boy for the first time, she was immediately on the phone with Louis, giggling and trying not to let her mother overhear. After she first kissed a girl, she was on Louis’ doorstep, pouring out tears and questions. After she first slept with a girl, she was in Louis’ room the morning after, with messy curls, bright eyes, and too many details she was too willing to share. 

Now, Harry’s quiet. Louis can see truths trapped behind her lips that she refuses to release. She’s dying to hear them spoken aloud, entrusted to her, but when she presses the matter, Harry just blinks slowly like she can’t even hear her questions. It hurts more than anything she’s ever known before, because she’s too scared to lose her other half. 

They’ve been through a lifetime together already, through all the childhood games, teenage crushes, first kisses, best kisses, boyfriends, girlfriends, semi-formals, graduations, and everything in between and in the future. There was so much they shared. 

Louis looks at Harry, noting how she’s pressing her eyes shut like she’s so determined she’ll sleep now that she’s in Louis’ bed with her. It sometimes works. Sometimes it doesn’t. 

Being with each other in bed brings sweet memories and painful reminders to the surface of Louis’ mind. They’d once lost a tooth on the same day, in primary school, and their mothers had let them have a sleepover so the tooth fairy could visit them together. They’d spent countless hours staying up late giggling and gossiping all through their teen years. As they’d neared graduating, they’d drifted into the habit of sometimes kissing and feeling around, because it was fun and whether it was romantic or friendly, they really did love each other. It happened sometimes in uni when they were drunk or lonely, and while it was rare, they had also shared kisses in their flat before. It hadn’t happened since October, Louis thinks. Halloween made everyone a little excitable.

That’s what was painful, what sends stabbing regret and desire through Louis’ veins. She wants that playfulness back, that intimacy that she’d only ever truly shared with Harry. But with Harry detached and not wanting to discuss what was in her head, they were veering farther and farther away from their juvenile closeness.

In a need to reassure herself that she still could, that it wouldn’t be weird or uncomfortable, Louis presses her lips to Harry’s forehead with a small kiss. Harry bites down on her own lip, it seemed, but she pushes herself even closer to Louis.

Oh well. So she wouldn’t figure everything out this morning. At least she’s still got her girl in her bed, where she knows she’s warm and not alone.


	2. Love Me (aka the morning of The 1975)

_“And love me, if that’s what you wanna do…”_

It’s 6:02. Matty Healy’s criticism of the superficiality of fame is pouring out of the speakers. Why Louis doesn’t just get rid of the speakers, she doesn’t know. Harry would find just find another way to wake her up, probably. Not worth making the effort.

She’s almost too tired to be irritated. She has the day off anyway, so at least she can sleep in after dealing with whatever Harry throws at her this morning. She pulls a cardigan over her sweatpants and drags her blanket out with her, too cold to even think of leaving it in her room.

The door’s open. Harry’s out on the balcony, leaned over the edge so she can watch the world be still.

_“I like when there’s no cars, no noise or anything. It’s too much, sometimes. I like when the world is quiet.”_

_Louis nods like she identifies entirely with what Harry says, despite the fact that Louis is the type of person to surround herself with commotion and distraction rather than to be calm and reflective._

_“I just…. I don’t know. Everything happens all at once and I try to think about it all at once and it makes my head spin, but I can’t make myself stop. I hate how it feels.”_

_Louis listens to Harry as she continues to speak, looking out at the still street outside of their dorm. No one’s out at 4 on a Tuesday morning. She knows she’ll regret the lack of sleep, but for now, it’s their own secret kind of perfect. The best kind._

_“I like it like this. With you, Lou.”_

Louis turns the music off. Harry doesn’t move, continues to stare out at the city while the wind plays in her curls. She’s only in an old t shirt (which Louis suspects might actually be hers) and tiny shorts. Louis’ freezing inside, all bundled up. Harry must be out of her mind.

Louis begrudgingly makes herself shuffle outside to look over the edge with Harry, except really she’s just staring at her best friend.

“Haz, honestly, your lips are blue,” she gets out eventually. Harry doesn’t verbally acknowledge the cold, but her jaw is trembling suspiciously like her teeth might be chattering behind closed, blue lips. When she doesn’t speak, Louis just sighs and tosses her blanket over her shoulders so they’re sharing what little warmth they can muster together. Louis hisses when Harry’s icy skin presses against her own.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Louis asks the question like she might know what ‘it’ is. She has no clue, really.

Harry shakes her head. “No,” and her voice is shaking from how cold she is, “I really don’t.”

“Will you ever want to?”

“I don’t know. It’s nothing important, don’t worry about it.” She lies like it’s easy. Louis hates it.

They stand outside a bit longer together, pressed together under bedcovers. There’s snow on the ground outside, it’s that cold. Louis can’t understand what possessed Harry to want to be outside at 6 in the morning in December. She lets it go on for a bit more before she has to put an end to it.

“We have to go in, pet. Come on. Back to bed for a while longer, before you have to go to work.”

Harry grimaces, has the kind of look on her face like she might call in sick today. Louis kind of wants her to, so they can stay in together all day, something they used to have the time and freedom to do at least weekly. Now, there’s too much responsibility for such indulgences. Louis has her online school and her job at the coffee shop. Harry has the bakery and her relentless pursuance of dreams of publishing any of her writing. She writes so much that Louis honestly doesn’t even know what she writes anymore. It used to be cheesy poems when they were younger, then it became attempts at full-on stories. Somewhere around their second year at uni, it became full-blown, planned-out chapters for various ideas for novels. Louis used to be allowed to read everything, then only most of it, then only a few select pieces, if Harry was up for it. She hasn’t read anything Harry’s written for a good 6 months, if not longer.

“I don’t want to go in, Lou.” The nickname used to sound adoring and comfortable. Now, when Harry’s blue lips let it slip out, it’s forlorn and decadent. Like a ghost of another time.

“You’ll catch your death out here, Harry.”

The look in Harry’s eyes says that maybe she’s okay with catching her death. Louis tries not to read too much into that. She drags her inside instead, shutting the door behind them so maybe the apartment will retain some semblance of heat. They get in bed together, and Harry’s asleep before Louis regains the feeling in her toes. Louis shuts her eyes and tries to turn her brain off. It doesn’t really work.

 

Louis’ wiping down the counters in their small kitchen, trying to make it look presentable for when Harry gets home. When she had woken up again, Harry had already left for work, leaving Louis to occupy herself for the day. In a rare acknowledgment of adult responsibility, Louis had decided it was time to prepare their flat for the holidays: cleaning and decorating.

The front room had been relatively easy, just reorganizing the CDs and vinyl Harry insisted on collecting and cleaning under the couch cushions. The kitchen’s trickier, but Louis had managed it. The hall bathroom is what she’s dreading. It’s not gross, exactly. It’s just cluttered way more than any bathroom should be.

Harry’s clothes, Harry’s makeup, Harry’s hair pins are all scattered around the small room. Louis, for the most part, doesn’t wear makeup often enough to keep it out, and she doesn’t like to leave her clothes out for fear of Harry “adopting” them as she has in the past. And her hair’s too short for pins. All that she’s really guilty of is some socks and too many empty soap bottles. She will admit to being a much bigger mess in other areas they share, but Harry’s the mirror queen who fills the white counter and tiled floor with her belongings.

When Louis’ gathered most of Harry’s mess to put back in her room (where hopefully, it’ll stay), she almost dreads opening the door. She’s not scared, exactly. She’s just nervous. She hasn’t actually been into Harry’s room in a while. The door’s stayed shut for a few weeks. Realistically, she knows it’s probably the exact same as it was before, but she’s uneasy nonetheless.

When she finally pushes the door open, dragging the basket of Harry’s stuff in behind her, she’s met with something close to chaos. All of Harry’s bedcovers and pillows are on the floor, and the sheets are half-off the mattress. The window’s open, which may explain why the heat never seems to work, and all of the plants Harry had kept at the windowsill are dead in their little pots. Harry’d taken down most of the pictures on the wall, leaving up just a few of her with her sister and mother. Her fairy lights had been torn down and half-draped across her headboard, not even plugged into the wall anymore. The entirety of her desk is covered in stacks of paper, some typed on, some filled with Harry’s scrawling handwriting, and some torn and crumbled, covered in words Louis would never be allowed to know about.

She wants so badly to know.

Louis doesn’t mean to snoop. She’s just curious, worried about Harry and convinced that her writing might hold some answers. She just glances over the papers on top of the piles of writing after she sets Harry’s basket on her bed.

A lot of it’s the usual thing: excerpts from novels and half-songs Harry pieces together when she’s thinking too hard. Some of it, mostly the handwritten stuff, looks different. There’s phrases that don’t seem to connect to anything else. It feels more personal.

_I never get high enough to forget the way your name tastes in my mouth at night._

_I bit my lip quiet when you chased younger souls._

_You’ve got me all kinds of fucked up._

_I’m losing almost my entire life to what you’re doing to me._

It sounds like some of what Harry says when she’s drunk or high, except it’s angrier and more directly pointed at someone. But who? Harry’s only known a handful of people well enough to be intimately upset with them. And she’s only known two people (aside from her family) since before high school: Louis and Niall. They’d picked up Zayn and Liam at uni, and Harry had some friends from the bakery. Her social life, at least as far as Louis was aware of, wasn’t exactly huge.

For a brief second, there’s an obvious solution: ask Harry. But there’s the issue of her knowing that Louis had looked at her writing without permission. She’d be mad beyond belief, and Louis’ already on rocky terms with her. She thinks, at least. It’s hard to tell.

Louis makes herself tear her eyes away from the papers so she can leave the room. On the other side of the door, she feels a little less like she’s drowning, but she’s still twisted inside.

She pushes it aside and makes herself get out their Christmas decorations. Maybe that’ll cheer Harry up when she’s home.

 

 

Harry doesn’t even get out of work until they’re supposed to meet the other girls for dinner. She arrives last, sitting down at the table with a huff, her shirtsleeves smudged with flour. There’s a smear of icing on her left hand that she doesn’t seem to even notice. It’s clear that she’s exhausted. Louis wants to put her to bed and make her sleep until she’s well and truly rested. It hurts her deeply to see someone who used to be filled with so much light and spirit looking so defeated.

Niall winces sympathetically. “Long day at the bakery?”

Harry answers with dying eyes and no words, getting her point across. Louis wants to hold her hand under the table, but she’s scared Harry won’t let her. She nudges her instead, passing her a menu and her own cup of water, which Harry sips at slowly.

Zayn, from where she’s practically sitting in Liam’s lap, tries to ease the sudden tension at the table. Her low voice soothes Louis’ stretched nerves. “We were talking about Friday, Haz. Liam wants to watch Batman again, but Niall and I are voting against her. Do you have any input?”

Harry stares across at her somberly, before turning to a pleasantly surprised Louis. “What do you want to watch? I can’t do Batman again.”

Louis’ taken aback by the fact that Harry’s asking her what she’s interested in after she’s been blowing her off and distancing herself all week. It makes her feel awful about what she says next.

“Actually…I won’t be able to make movie night this week.”

It’s hard to immediately tell who’s more offended, Niall or Harry. Harry quietly smolders while Niall verbally expresses her outrage.

“What?! You promised you wouldn’t miss another! Couldn’t you get off work?”

Louis bites her lip, dreading the backlash for what she has to confess.

“I am off work. I have a date.”

Eyes shoot up all around the table, but curiously, they all go to Harry, who’s looking anywhere but back at any of the girls. Louis is drowning in guilt, because it’s true, she does always miss movie night. It’s usually because she’s working or studying. She was looking forward to joining the girls this week, but a coworker insisted on setting her up on a date and the only night that worked for him was Friday.

Niall pouts and grumbles theatrically, possibly because she’s truly that wounded, but Louis suspects she’s trying to detract attention from Harry. Liam and Zayn share a concerned look that Louis catches, though it’s clear she isn’t supposed to. It’s all very strange. She’s been on dates before (although not recently) and none of them ever seemed this bothered. She has no idea what could have changed.

Liam breaks the silence this time. “Who is she?”

“It’s a guy this time. Someone from work set us up. Apparently, we’d suit each other well. I don’t know how much I actually believe her, but she wouldn’t let me hear the end of it.”

“It’s a guy? When’s the last time you went out with a guy? Do you even know how to talk to them anymore?” Niall teases her. It doesn’t feel as lighthearted as it should, not with how Harry quietly excuses herself and Zayn follows her while Liam and Niall try to occupy all of Louis’ attention.

Louis can’t even remember what Niall said, she’s so distracted by the instinct to follow Harry. Liam’s voice grounds her again. “You couldn’t have scheduled it for Saturday, at least? We haven’t seen you in weeks, not when we’re all together like this.”

Louis’ growing more agitated the more they question her. “I’m sorry, okay? I have work and I have class, you all know that. I’ll get off next week and we can all be together then.”

Niall raises her eyebrows, completely disbelieving. “If you say so, Lou.”

Louis’ growing frustration and concern for Harry bubble under her skin. She moves to stand, to go check on her even though she knows Zayn is with her. Liam shoots a hand out to stop her.

“She’s fine, Louis. And Zayn’s with her anyway. I’m sure she’s just tired.”

“I know, but she could be sick, and I haven’t really seen her all day and I’m just worried.”

Niall nods in reluctant agreement. “She seems off, but it was probably just something at work. Has she been sleeping?”

Louis rolls her eyes. “No, we’re still working that out.”

Zayn arrives back, but without Harry. She makes a face at Liam that Liam seems to understand, making a face back to further their silent communication. She nods at Zayn, who then turns to Louis with an attempt to keep her expression neutral.

“Harry’s not feeling well, I’m taking her back to your flat.”

“I should- “

“I've got it, Louis.” Her tone is clipped. Liam hands Zayn her purse and accepts a quick kiss before she saunters out, hips swinging like they do when she’s mad. But what would she have to be mad about?

“Is Zayn upset with me? Did I do something?”

Liam and Niall share a look and stay silent.

“Is this because I won’t be there Friday?”

Liam sighs and reaches out for her hand, trying to be comforting. “No, and no one’s upset with you. I think it’s just been a long day for all of us.”

Someone comes over to take their order then, so Louis lets it go while Niall rambles off a request for half the menu. She’s in no way convinced that no one’s mad.

 

 

Liam rides back with Louis so she can meet up with Zayn again, as the couple had only taken one car, which Zayn had driven Harry in. She follows Louis into the apartment, dimly lit by only the fairy lights Louis had strung up earlier. Any other time, it would look warm and seasonal. Now, it seems dark and sad. It feels less like their home.

Harry’s door is cracked open slightly, with only a little light coming through. Zayn probably plugged her lights back in. Knowing her, she probably made the bed up and everything. She takes care of people. She and Liam are similar in that way, and Louis thinks that’s why they’re so strong: they take care of each other. She thinks she and Harry used to do that. She still tries to, even if she doesn’t know how.

Louis knows better than to go in, knows that somehow, she’d make it worse, so she hangs back in the kitchen and watches Liam tap on the door and slide in.

Louis empties the sink, just for something to keep her hands busy. She’s noticed that she’s been keeping busy a lot lately. It’s like the more Harry slows down, the faster Louis speeds up, almost like they’re balancing each other. Or maybe she’s just distracting herself from her problems. It sounds more poetic the first way.

She’s placing the glasses back up in their cupboard when Zayn and Liam come out together, managing to gracefully press close even when walking. Louis envies their fluidity.

“Is she feeling any better?”

“I’d let her sleep it off. She’ll be fine in the morning.”

Louis sighs, feeling useless. “Thank you for helping her.”

Zayn shrugs apathetically. “I’d do it for any of you.”

“I know.” And she does.

Louis sneaks into Harry’s room after walking Ziam out to their car, knocking gently before slipping in.

Harry’s laying on her front, facing the wall. Her hair’s damp and as far as Louis can tell, she’s naked under the covers. Zayn did make her bed and did turn on her lights. It looks like she also put all of Harry’s papers back on her desk, and put her clothes in the hamper. It looks less like chaos, but still not like Harry.

There’s a candle flickering on the windowsill, so Louis knows Harry’s awake, even though her eyes are shut. She’d never fall asleep with a candle burning. Louis sits on the edge of the mattress and stares at the tiny flame, resting a palm on Harry’s bare back.

“Are you feeling alright?”

Harry doesn’t respond in any way. Louis didn’t really think she would.

“I don’t know what happened, but I’m sorry if it’s my fault. I do feel bad about skipping out on movie night again.”

Still nothing. Louis goes on, for lack of anything to lose.

“I miss you, Haz. I don’t know what’s been going on but I don’t like it. I feel like we haven’t really spoken in weeks. I don’t know how to fix it, but I’d like to try.”

Silence.

“And I still love you, even though it’s been off lately. I think it’s important that I still tell you that.”

Harry’s silent and motionless, and Louis would think she was asleep if she didn’t know any better. She decides to just leave it where it is, not knowing what else to do. She blows out the candle and pulls Harry’s door shut.

And if she cries a little before bed, no one has to know and she doesn’t have to explain why.


	3. I Need Your Love (aka the morning of Ellie Goulding)

It’s Ellie Goulding this morning, and Louis’ honestly just glad that Harry’s communicating with her a little, even if it’s through blasting music at 7:30 a.m. She sleepily stumbles into the kitchen to find Harry sitting on the counter, a half-empty cup of tea in her hands, staring out the window like she’s considering jumping through it.

“Nice to see you’re up.” She turns down the music and plucks the mug from Harry’s hands, pouring out the cold tea and filling the kettle. “Feeling any better?”

Harry shrugs, stares at Louis. “I guess.” Her voice is raspy. 

“You don’t want to talk about what happened, I suppose.”

Harry turns away. “I felt sick.”

“Were you mad because I’m skipping out again?”

Harry bites down on her lip, fighting back a sudden rush of tears and frustration, trying not to let Louis notice. Louis, of course, does notice. She always does.

“Hey, no, love. It’s okay. We don’t have to talk about it. I’m sorry.” She loosens her grip where she’d reached out to grab Harry’s wrist, desperate to make her stay, to comfort her. 

“I don’t want to talk about it. Not with you.”

That stings bright hot in the center of Louis’ chest. She tries to ignore it now, for the sake of peace. 

“I said we don’t have to.”

It comes out harsher than she meant it to. She tries to soothe the tension by pouring two new cups of tea, pressing Harry’s back in her hands. They’re quiet for a few moments, looking out the window together. Harry grew herbs on the windowsill when it was warmer out. Their pots are empty now that it’s winter.

“Did you sleep much last night?” Louis tries again.

Harry nods. “About 6 hours.” A rough night for most; a luxurious night’s sleep for an insomniac. 

“You still look a bit tired.”

Harry gives an attempt at an exhausted grin. “Don’t I always?”

Louis considers this for a moment, sipping at her tea. “D’you want to go back to bed for a little while? I don’t work until noon today, we could have a lie-in. Unless you go in soon?”

Harry shakes her head. “11 to 5 today. Lucky me.”

“We’ve got time then. Come on,” she coaxes, pulling Harry by the hand to help her slide off the counter. She lands very close to Louis, much closer than either of them had expected, judging from the look on Harry’s face and the rush of heat that spreads through Louis. She steps back and tries to ignore it, tries to keep it calm. 

“Mine or yours?”

Harry winces. “Probably yours. Mine’s a bit of a mess.”

“Fair enough.” 

In bed together, all wrapped up under Louis’ countless blankets, they talk a little more while fighting yawns.

“We need to do the shopping today,” Harry reminds Louis.

“Mmm. Tonight?”

“Okay.” She presses her face into Louis’ shoulder, dozing off surprisingly quickly. Louis adamantly doesn’t think about how she’d like to press a kiss to her forehead. Instead, she sets an alarm for 10:15, to make sure Harry will be ready for work on time. Pressed close to her best friend, she sleeps both more soundly and more fitfully than she has in a long time.

 

 

Louis wakes up at 11 to a preset alarm and an empty bed. Harry’s left for work, then. Louis wishes she’d gotten up with her to make sure she felt okay, but she supposes she has to give Harry some space every now and then. Even though she never used to want it. 

Louis pushes herself out of bed and into the shower, getting ready for work. There’s nothing she’d love more than to get a few more hours of sleep, but she knows she can’t call in sick again. She needs the money and she needs to prove that she can be a somewhat reliable employee. She hates her job, but it’s kept her in a decent flat and enrolled in classes, so she won’t quit. But on mornings like this one, it’s tempting. 

She showers and dresses and runs her hands through her damp hair on the way to the coffee shop, where she begrudgingly takes orders and wipes tables and makes drinks. A woman insists that Louis gave her the wrong drink 3 different times (Louis swears she was just changing the order each time), a group of college girls rudely leave a huge mess on one of the tables, and Louis spills an iced drink all down herself 3 hours before she can leave. By 6, she’s miserable and a mess, but she only lets the smile leave her face once she’s clocked out. She can only be cranky after her shifts. 

Going home to Harry would normally be a relief after a day like today, but things have changed. She hopes for the best, and maybe it’ll be okay tonight. This morning was surprisingly calm. At the same time, anything could happen, and more often than not, Harry’s moody and sometimes snaps at Louis, if she’s particularly upset. She doesn’t trust herself to not snap back after the day she’s had. 

Thankfully, when she walks in, Harry seems to be in a surprisingly pleasant mood, sitting on the couch and flipping through a book. Her hair’s up for a change. It makes her look younger, less weighed-down. Louis likes it a startling amount. 

“You look awful,” Harry says when she looks up to the sound of the door shutting.

“Thanks,” Louis answers dryly. 

“I didn’t mean- you look tired, that’s all. Long day?”

Louis tells Harry about her day through her open bedroom door while she strips out of her coffee-stained clothes and changes into a more comfortable outfit. Harry responds with something lazily-worded, mostly just filling the space while Louis gets ready to go to the store.

When Louis comes out in clean clothes and neater hair, she collapses onto the couch beside Harry, allowing herself to lean into the other girl. She’s surprised when Harry lifts her arm to let Louis get closer and more comfortable.

“Want me to do the shopping alone? You look exhausted. I don’t mind doing it.”

Louis sighs softly. “No, I want to go. I haven’t been properly out of the house except to go to work in a while, except for last night. And if I let you go alone, you won’t get the right cereal.”

Harry wrinkles her nose. “You mean I won’t get the cereal that’ll end up rotting your teeth out.”

“Yes, exactly.” 

Harry huffs out a little laugh. “Alright, then. We’d better go before we lose our ambition.”

Louis presses her face into Harry’s side, mumbling, “What ambition?”

Harry giggles. “That’s exactly what I’m talking about. Come on.” She stands, pulling Louis to her feet. “If we don’t go tonight, we’ll be living off of expired milk and a bag of spinach for another day.”

Louis protests quietly, but lets herself be dragged out of the flat and downstairs, stopping Harry only so she could slip her vans over her bare feet. 

Harry drives, because it’s too cold to walk and Louis’ too tired to be focused behind the wheel. They listen to the radio in a comfortable silence. Louis likes just being with Harry like this, without it being tense and confusing. She loves Harry, always has, and she loves spending time with her. She’ll take anything she can get, even if it’s just a trip to the grocery.

In the store, Harry reads out her list in the produce section while Louis makes faces at the stuff she doesn’t like. Lettuce, for example. Completely useless, as far as she’s concerned. 

She pushes the cart along while Harry grabs what they need, the pair making lazy conversation as they shop. Harry tells Louis about a girl she met at the bakery. “She seemed nice enough. She asked if I’d like to get coffee after my shift, but I told her I was busy. She wasn’t really my type.”

“At least it wasn’t a boy.”

Harry huffs out a small laugh, one that acknowledges how glad she is that it wasn’t a boy. Harry has a history of guys coming into the bakery and falling for her curly locks and bright eyes (Louis totally understands). It always ends in an awkward and polite refusal from her, and either a more awkward apology or an upset outburst from them. 

Louis watches Harry’s shirt slip up a few inches while she reaches to grab a box of pasta. The strip of skin exposed is pale and creamy, faded from the lush tan she gets in the summer. Louis wants to pull the rest of her shirt up and press kisses to her spine. Realizing this, she tears her eyes away and stares at the linoleum floor, trying not to feel guilty. 

Harry tosses the box into their cart, strolling forward while glancing over the list again. Louis dutifully follows, pushing the cart while exerting as little energy as possible. Harry reaches behind herself to grab onto the metal basket, leading Louis to prevent her from sleepily knocking into shelves.

“So who was it that set you up with your boyfriend?”

Louis’ startled at Harry’s bluntness, and at how calm she seems after the mess of last night.

“He’s not my boyfriend.” Harry scoffs, making Louis scrunch up her face in frustration. “He isn’t. I don’t even really want to go. Anita’s been covering some of my shifts when I have to study, and I owed her a favor. Her brother hasn’t been out in a while and she thinks I’ll be fun for him. I tried to tell her I didn’t think it was a good idea, but I really owe her.”

“You should have lied and said you’re gay,” Harry smirks over her shoulder, leading the cart down the baking aisle. 

“Honestly, I might as well be, at this point.”

“What do you mean?” Harry twists her face in concern, looking not at Louis, but at the wall of bags of sugar and flour in front of her.

“I don’t know. I’ve had fun with guys before, but I just haven’t been feeling it lately. Might become exclusively available to girls.

Harry’s cheeks flame up, but she doesn’t acknowledge it. She tosses a bag of confectioner’s sugar into the cart and starts leading them out of the baking aisle. “Well, girls are more fun, in my professional opinion.”

“They do tend to be. I just worry that I’ve met all the girls in our area by now.” Her eyes bore into the back of Harry’s head. Harry’s back is suspiciously stick-straight, but she doesn’t turn. 

“I’m sure there’s someone for you. You just have to keep looking.”

“I suppose.” Louis doesn’t really want to look, is the thing. She likes her life. She likes coming home to Harry. She likes grocery shopping with Harry at night, staying up until the early morning talking nonsense and watching shit TV with her, and curling up in bed with her when she needs to feel better. She likes bringing Harry tea when she’s tired. She likes seeing Harry work in the kitchen when she’s trying a new recipe. She even likes the mess Harry always leaves in the bathroom after she’s gotten ready for a night out. It’s home. Louis can’t imagine bringing another person into the equation and upsetting the balance of their life together.

And the urges she’s been getting to press kisses to Harry’s pouty lips, to bite Harry’s soft hips, to trail her lips up Harry’s stretched spine… well, they don’t make the prospect of a new girl seem any more appealing. 

She lets Harry drag her and the cart to checkout after they’ve completed their list and helps her unload the basket, and then helps her load the bags into the back of the car. Harry shivers in the car, pulling her coat tighter around herself before starting the car. Louis thinks she’s warm enough as long as she’s got her girl by her side.

 

Harry joins Louis on the couch after putting the groceries away, tucking her bare feet under Louis’ thigh. Louis’ too tired to put up a fight, not that she really wants to. 

“Louuuuu.” There’s a smile in Harry’s voice. It’s a relief and a comfort to hear it after the way she’s been acting lately. 

“Mmmm. What?” Louis tries to keep her eyes fully open so she can look at Harry’s grinning face.

“You’re sleepy, love. You should go to bed.”

“Noooo. Wanna make up movie night to you in advance.”

“You’ll fall asleep before it even begins, Lou.” 

“That’s okay. You’re just going to put on some Disney movie again. I’ve seen them all.”

Harry pouts a little, but gives in, knowing Louis’ right. She leaves the couch only for the moment it takes to turn the telly on and to find the remote. She’s with Louis again in seconds, leaning into her to share her sleepy warmth. Louis moves to let her properly curl up against her, leaning her back against Louis’ chest. 

“Which one is this?”

Harry hums, clicking the remote at the screen. “Tinker Bell alright?”

“You mean Peter Pan?”

“No, Tinker Bell. She has her own movie. A few of them, actually.”

“Hm. Alright. I’ll be asleep in minutes no matter what.”

Sure enough, by the time Tinker Bell has been introduced to her new home, Louis’ out. Harry can tell from the even rise and fall of her chest, and the way she relaxes further into the couch and into Harry. Harry smiles gently, content for the first time in weeks. Boys and girls and everyone but the two of them together be damned. For tonight at least, Louis is hers and she is Louis’.


	4. Girls Like Girls (aka the morning of Hayley Kiyoko)

_“Girls like girls like boys do…”_

Louis peels an eye open, glaring blearily at her bedroom wall. Harry picked this song the morning after Louis’d told her she’s probably only interested in girls. Interesting.

_“Nothing new…”_

She rolls out of bed, too tired to remember to wrap her blanket around herself, despite the cool temperature in the apartment. She stumbles out of her room, finding Harry asleep on the couch.

“Hazza. Love.”

Harry doesn’t reply, doesn’t show any signs of stirring. Louis sighs and turns the music off, sits on the end of the couch, moving Harry’s feet into her lap.

“Harryyyy.”

“No,” Harry says quietly, not fully awake. She curls in even further on herself, apparently dropping back into her nap. Louis tries to keep her head on steady, not giving into the swirl of emotions that comes from waking up too early and too quickly.

“Okay.” Louis presses herself next to Harry, wrapping her arms around the other girl. They’re both sleep-heavy, and the warmth only grows between them as Louis lets herself shut her eyes and drift off pressed against her girl.

 

Sometime later, it feels like hours, Louis wakes up to Harry shoving herself off the couch and running down the hall to the bathroom. She stares after her in confusion. “Harry?”

There’s no response, so she gets up and shuffles down the hall after her, finding herself standing in front of the closed bathroom door. She knocks, pressing her ear against the wood to see if she can hear anything, like vomiting, or something else that would warrant physically running through the apartment. “Haz?”

The shower starts. Harry doesn’t answer. Louis gives up, rolling her eyes. Let her be that way.

It’s only after Louis’ gone through two cups of tea and become so bored she’d begun to tidy the kitchen that Harry emerged in two towels and a cloud of steam. There’s mascara still smudged a bit under her red, puffy eyes. Louis wants to believe Harry looks delicate from the hot shower, but she can’t help her doubts. She leaves it alone, though, avoiding the confrontation.

“Tea?”

“Sure.” Harry’s voice is rough and quiet. Louis reminds herself to be gentle with her, to not snap in frustration when she won’t talk about what’s bothering her.

“Do you work today?” She puts extra sugar in Harry’s tea before handing her the mug.

Harry nods once before accepting the mug. “12 to 8.”

“Want to do face masks tonight?” Harry’s eyes flit up to meet Louis’ gaze. She looks hopeful. “Might as well have a clean face if I’m going on this date.” Harry’s face falls immediately. Louis knew it was the wrong thing to say as soon as the words left her mouth, but she can’t take it back.

“I don’t know.” Harry puts her tea down, looks like she’s going to go lock herself in her room until she leaves for work.

“Please? I’ll go out and get the nice ones, and new nail polish. It’ll be fun. Spa night. We haven’t done it in forever.”

Harry sighs. “We can’t afford the nice masks.” She presents her bitten nails to Louis. “And there’s no point in me wearing nail polish.”

Louis holds eye contact with her for a long, quiet moment, trying to communicate how much she wants things to be a little normal between them again. It feels like a stupid idea now, but she doesn’t want to give up on it yet.

“I’ll paint your toenails.” It feels silly to say, and it sounds silly in the open air. Louis can feel the tension, the possibility of Harry still saying no and still pushing her away.

Harry cracks first, letting a small smile bring some light into her eyes. “Will you get glitter polish?”

Louis grins. “Of course.”

_Harry screws her face up, readying herself to drunkenly protest at the film she’s watching with Louis._

_“That’s shit. She only got with him because she’s sad.”_

_Louis grabs her wrist to steady her arm, making Harry splay her fingers out again, letting Louis continue to paint her nails a glitzy purple._

_“Stop moving, Haz, you’ll smudge. And anyway, you’re the one who picked this movie.”_

_“I picked a shit movie.”_

_“I’m not disagreeing, love.” Louis finishes off Harry’s smallest fingernail and screws the bottle shut tight. “There you go, then, glamour queen.”_

_Harry pulled her eyes from the screen, stashing away her fury at the film’s plotline so she can admire her nails. Her big green eyes follow the purple glitter, completely captivated. Louis tries not to stare too openly._

_“I like the sparkles.”_

_“Then you can always have sparkles.”_

“Alright, then. But I’m not painting your toes unless you wear socks today.”

“Fair’s fair.”

Harry smiles small and wanders off to ready herself for work after letting Louis know that she won’t be welcome back into their home without pink glitter and an avocado mask. Louis tries not to get too excited, but it feels like maybe things are going right again.

 

Harry’s at the counter with flour in her curls and food dye smudged into her hands, talking animatedly to a customer while scribbling on a notepad. Wedding cake consultation. Louis’ willing to bet everything.

It’s half past 6, and Louis is bored. She’d showered, gone out and bought the supplies for their night, met Niall for lunch, and caught up on her class assignments. She’d gotten ahead of her schedule, even. After an unintentional nap, she couldn’t take being alone in the flat anymore. She knew it wouldn’t be busy at the bakery, so she figured a quick visit couldn’t hurt, especially since she couldn’t remember the last time she’d been to visit Harry at work.

When they had just moved into their flat together, she and Harry would visit each other all the time. They were like newlyweds, infatuated with their new “adult” space and their new “adult” lives, and with each other. Harry used to bring Louis lunch at the coffee shop and stare at her with stars in her eyes. Now, she’s lucky if Harry sends her a few emojis on her break. To be fair, Louis was also to blame for the lack of workspace interaction. That’s why she’s here, though, to make things better with her and Harry.

The consultation finishes in a few minutes, the lady walking out of the shop with the bakery’s card in hand, Harry scribbling a few finals notes on her notepad. Louis steps up to the counter, waiting patiently for Harry to get out of her “cake-space,” noting her luck that the shop’s practically empty.

Harry’s curls bounce when she looks up, eyes squinted in a smile when she sees Louis. “Louis! I didn’t expect this.”

“I know, Haz. I thought maybe I’d drop by today. It’s been a while.”

“And you were bored.”

“And I was bored.”

Harry looks out at the seating area, looking relieved when there’s only an elderly couple in the corner who’ve been talking over pastries for hours already.

“Pick a table, I’ll get you something. I do have to work on a design for this cake, though.”

She brings a lemon cupcake on a plate over to Louis, balancing the plate on her notebook. Louis accepts gratefully while Harry flips back open to her page.

“Did you make these?”

“No, Julia did. I’ve been chocolate all week.”

Louis licks the icing thoughtfully. “It’s good…” Harry raises an eyebrow. “But yours are better.” She winks, making Harry giggle. It sends butterflies through Louis’ chest, seeing Harry happy at work. Happy to see Louis.

“Wedding cake?” Louis nods to Harry’s notes in question.

“Birthday walk-in. She wants it this week.”

“You’re not too busy?”

“The bakery is. I’m not.”

A heart of gold. That’s the first phrase Louis can think of to describe Harry.

“You’re lovely, you know.” It’s not what Louis meant to say, and it’s apparently not what Harry was prepared to hear, but it comes out anyway. She can’t say she regrets it, not when she sees Harry’s cheeks redden as she holds Louis’ gaze a beat too long before glancing back down at her paper.

“Thank you.”

There’s a few moments of silence while Harry sketches a design before she breaks the quiet. “What all have you done today?”

“Not very much. Went shopping, met Niall for lunch. Finished my late work. Napped. Got bored.”

“You’re useless without me.” It’s truer than it should be, but the mirth in Harry’s voice doesn’t acknowledge it.

“I am a bit, yeah. I should have picked up a shift today.”

Harry shakes her head. “You deserved a day off. You’re just restless.”

“I have nothing to do.”

“Do you want a recipe?”

Louis blinks, a bit surprised. Harry hasn’t given her a recipe in ages, not since she broke the mixer. She used to give Louis easy recipes to work on while Harry was working late, to keep her busy and get dinner made. It felt special, knowing Harry was picking recipes she thought Louis would like. It was terrifyingly domestic.

“Yeah, alright. What have you got for me?”

Harry slides her phone out of her apron pocket, unlocking it and scrolling for a few moments. Louis’ phone buzzes on the table when Harry puts her phone away again.

“I sent you the link. It’s easy. You won’t need the mixer.”

“I didn’t need the mixer for the last one.”

“No, you didn’t, and now you know the mixer isn’t a shortcut for everything.”

Louis feels heat in her cheeks. “You like the new one better, though.”

Harry smiles. “Yeah. It’s pretty.” Louis had gotten her a pricey mint mixer to replace the shitty one she’d accidentally destroyed. Harry was enamored with it.

Louis opens the link on her phone and looks through the recipe. It’s a pasta dish, simple and entirely in Louis’ region of capability. “I think I’ll be able to manage it.”

“I should hope so.”

“I’ll get started on it, then.” Louis stands, pushing her chair back into the table. “See you at home?”

Harry nods. “See you at home.” She watches when Louis walks out, trying to shake the nostalgia blanketing her.

 

The kitchen doesn’t smell too on fire by the time Harry walks in the door, so Louis figures she must have done a decent job of preparing an actual meal. There had been an incident that involved her having to start over boiling the pasta, but she feels she handled it pretty well. Maybe Harry will be tricked into thinking she’s competent in the kitchen.

Harry thunks her purse down on the floor and leans into Louis from behind, letting out a tired groan. Louis leans back into her to give her exhausted form more support, continuing to stir the sauce on the stovetop.

“Long day?”

“Angie had to leave early. I had to clean up. Need a nap.”

“After 8, we generally call naps ‘sleep.’”

“Either way.”

Louis nudges her off. “Go change. You’ll feel better. I’m almost done here, anyway, so we’ll get you off to bed soon enough.”

“I’m staying up for face masks and nail polish.”

“Of course, love. Now go.” Louis swats at her to get her moving, smiling, pleased, when Harry shuffles off, grumbling under her breath.

She makes her return minutes later, wearing sleep pants and an old t shirt, looking much comfier. Louis’ setting their plates on the table.

Harry eats quietly while Louis chatters, listening only except to compliment Louis’ seemingly improved culinary abilities. Louis tries to hold back her beam of pride and disguise it by continuing to talk rampantly, but she’s not sure she pulls it off as convincingly as she’d hoped for.

Louis cleans up when they’ve finished, sending Harry into the bathroom to start the process of wrangling her curls back into a ponytail. She joins her just as Harry’s tearing open the first face mask, a slightly more expensive one than they normally buy, because Louis had promised she’d try to get nice ones and she’d kept that promise.

Louis joins Harry at the sink while she smears an avocado and oatmeal mixture across her skin, reaching in front of her to grab a lemon/mint mask.

“You look a bit green, Haz.”

There’s a beat where neither of them moves, and then Harry giggles. “That was terrible.”

“Couldn’t help it.” Louis sets to covering her own face, pleased with Harry’s little laugh.

They get their hands washed and the bathroom slightly cleared of green spatters, moving out to the couch so Louis can paint Harry’s toes like she’d sworn she would that morning

Harry shakes her head in slight disbelief when Louis presents the pink glitter polish to her. “I didn’t really need new nail polish, Lou. I was joking.”

“You do so need new nail polish, if it means you get sparkle toes.”

Harry smiles softly. “Alright. If you insist.” After some coaxing, she begrudgingly puts her feet up on the cushions so Louis can actually get to them.

“You have alien feet, you know.” To match her alien green face.

“I know, but you’re the one who wanted to paint my toes so bad. You have a kink I don’t know about?”

Louis’ cheeks flame, even though she knows Harry’s kidding. They hadn’t talked about that in a while. Harry knew some of what Louis liked from other girls: lace and biting. Louis knows Harry’s preferences in much greater detail. Harry likes handcuffs, blindfolds, having her hair pulled, being called names, being embarrassed, being out of control, etc. Louis can’t think about it too much while she’s sitting right next to her.

“Yep. I’m totally getting off from painting your alien toes, Haz. That’s exactly it.”

Harry giggles again, kicking her foot out at Louis, who tuts at her for almost smudging the polish. Harry grumbles at her, but stays still anyway. Only until Louis’ finished, then she’s reaching for the bottle and insisting on painting Louis’ toenails in repayment.

“Hazza, my feet are gross.”

“I’ll hold my breath. I want us to match.” Louis shuts up after that and lets Harry do as she wants, secretly loving that she wants to match.

The timer on Harry’s phone goes off seconds after she’s screwed the lid back onto the bottle of nail polish. “Time to wash this goop off our faces, I suppose.”

Louis nods, pulling Harry to her feet. “Come on. The sooner we’re clean, the sooner you get the sleep you need.”

They rinse their faces together in the sink, then finish getting ready for the night. Louis elbows Harry on purpose while brushing her teeth. Harry carelessly thwacks Louis back, making her giggle like a schoolgirl crush. Louis takes out her contacts while Harry rinses with mouthwash, trying not to be too enamored by Harry’s green, sleepy eyes. It’s not fair for someone to be so entirely gorgeous while she’s doing something as human as getting ready for bed. It’s just not.

Louis wanders into her own room after Harry’s door is closed, flopping out into her bed. She’s not that tired, not really. It’s still pretty early. She could stay up and catch up on her shows, or she could finish some more classwork. She normally would without hesitation, but she wants to be up early tomorrow so she can get to work on time, for once. The only problem is making herself go to sleep at a decent time.

She worries over it for a few minutes, debating between staying up later, as she normally would, and making herself try to sleep. She’s weighing her options and losing respect for herself when someone knocks softly on her door.

Harry pushes it open, leaning on the doorframe, looking abruptly younger than she normally does.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?”

Louis tries not to acknowledge the fluttering feeling in her chest.

“Of course, love.”

Harry shuts the door behind her, crawling into bed with Louis. She’s asleep within ten minutes. Louis’ impressed. Harry might not stay asleep for very long, but at least she’s already getting some rest.

Louis turns her lanterns off, getting back under the covers with Harry.

Sleeping early it is.


	5. Kiss Me (aka the morning of Ed Sheeran)

Harry wakes up before Louis like she has every day for the past few weeks. She’s not surprised by it, but she’s a little disappointed to be awake. As long as she stayed asleep, she could stay in the blanket of safety and comfort she’d felt yesterday with Louis. Awake, she’s stuck in this new day, blinking slowly in the cold light streaming in through the window while Louis sleeps soundly beside her, completely oblivious to Harry’s impending meltdown.

Harry gently pushes herself out of Louis’ hold, sitting up and trying to hold back the sinking feeling in her chest. Today’s the day. Today’s the date.

She doesn’t really know why she’s so upset over it. Louis herself said she’s not looking forward to it, that it’s just a favor for a coworker. It just feels like a threat, because maybe it’ll go better than Louis expects. Maybe Louis will like her date, will enjoy herself, will make plans to see him again.

Maybe she’ll bring him home.

Harry shakes the thought out of her head, standing up and leaving Louis’ room, pressing the door shut behind herself. She’ll let Louis sleep a little longer. This way, she can have some time to herself, to think in peace without Louis hovering, distracting, trying to comfort.

Yesterday had been the best and worst thing to happen in weeks. Louis visiting the bakery, cooking, reviving spa night and glitter nails, it had all felt achingly…normal. Perfect. Home. Harry’d loved it, of course, loved having Louis’ attention and loved spending time with her, but it felt too much like something that could disappear again so easily.

It’s Harry’s fault.

She could have gone out and found any other girl and busied herself with her, kept herself distracted. But she hadn’t, couldn’t, and so she’d found herself back where she always finds herself. Always infatuated. Always with Louis. She knew if she said anything, Louis would be kind about it. She’d tease Harry a bit, then let it go, act like it never happened so they wouldn’t lose their friendship. But Harry didn’t know if she could handle that, because something would always be different between them if that were to happen.

So she’s not letting it happen.

Harry’d been waiting for the kettle to boil as she’d been thinking, trying to keep calm and unworried. It’s only when she looks at the clock again and realizes how much time had passed that she realizes she never actually turned the kettle on. Somehow, that’s what does it.

She’s sitting in their kitchen in old pajamas, an old t shirt, with her hair down, messy curls around her shoulders and down her back. The too bright, too clean winter light is streaming in through their kitchen window, making everything look frozen in time. Harry feels frozen in time, frozen waiting for the kettle that will never boil and waiting for the girl who will never love her back.

She tries her hardest to hold it in, but that makes it worse. Tears start falling slowly, at first, but they pick up speed the more Harry tries to calm down, the more worked up she gets.

She lets it happen for a while, trusts that Louis will stay asleep, but she makes herself leave the kitchen when she thinks she hears her stirring. The last thing she wants is for Louis to catch her like this, such a mess. She’d rather she holds on to the warm, familiar feeling from last night than go all day with images of Harry’s red, puffy eyes and tearstained cheeks in her mind.

Harry shuts herself in her room, suddenly having to hold back sobs. She rushes to her speaker, to hook her phone up and play music to cover any noise that may escape her room. Ed Sheeran’s voice rings out, low and perfect and too fitting for what she feels. She buries her face in a pillow, sitting on the edge of her bed, trying desperately to calm down before Louis can find her.

 

Louis’ vaguely awake for a few minutes, contemplating lying in for a bit more. Harry makes the decision, ultimately, suddenly blaring Ed Sheeran.

_“And your heart’s against my chest, your lips pressed in my neck…”_

Which reminds her. Why is Harry not still in bed with her? She thought last night had helped, maybe, could lead to a more relaxed morning.

Apparently not.

Louis doesn’t find Harry on the couch, realizes the music’s coming from her room today.

_“I’m falling for your eyes, but they don’t know me yet.”_

Louis knocks on Harry’s door, even though she knows the music’s too loud for Harry to hear her knocking. She waits, then tests the handle. Unlocked. Whether that’s because Harry left it unlocked on purpose or because Harry never fixed her lock, she doesn’t know. She doesn’t dwell on it, pushing the door open and letting herself into Harry’s space.

Harry’s a complete wreck. A gorgeous wreck, but a wreck all the same. She pulls her face out of her hands when she realizes Louis’ sat next to her on the bed, immediately looking away, trying to hide her face.

Louis reaches across Harry’s lap to her phone, pausing the song. Silence floods the apartment immediately. It feels a little wrong.

“Harry, love, we have to talk about whatever it is.”

Harry shakes her head, presses her eyes shut, lets out another waterfall of tears. “We really don’t.”

“Is it that you’re missing home?”

Harry shakes her head, no.

“Is it work?”

No.

“Your books?”

No.

“Did I do something? One of the other girls?”

“No, Lou. Please.”

Louis sighs, leans over and wraps an arm around Harry, trying not to empathetically shake with the sobs that wrack her body. “I just want to help, Haz. It’s obviously tearing you apart, whatever it is.”

“Louis, please, just not right now.” A pause, a shaky inhale. “You have to get ready for work.” A small hiccup. “I have to go out today and get stuff for the cake.”

“But Harry-”

“Lou.” Harry looks her in the eye for the first time all morning, eyes red, but tears slowing. “Just not now. Please.”

Louis sighs, but gives in, not wanting to upset her more than she’s already upset herself. “Alright, but I really do want to talk about this later. You’re hurting, Haz, and I hate that.”

Harry doesn’t say anything, looks away again. Louis hates this happening after yesterday had gone so well, had felt so normal.

“I get off at 5 today,” she says softly.

“You have your date tonight.”

“Oh. Right.” She’d somehow managed to forget. The feeling in her chest isn’t disappointment, she’d swear to it (except that that’s exactly what it is).

Harry wipes at her eyes, lets out a breath that she’s been holding in. “I need to shower.”

“Alright. You shower.”

Harry gives her a watery attempt at a grin before standing and going off to shower, like she’s trying again to assure Louis that she’s fine and functioning normally, even though she absolutely isn’t.

There’s nothing Louis can really do about it in this moment, though, so she goes back to her own room and gets ready for work.

 

 

Work sucked. Coming home to a busily baking Harry helps a little.

She watches Harry work for a few minutes, entranced by the sight of her. She hadn’t left the bathroom by the time Louis had left for work, so they hadn’t seen each other since the incident this morning. Harry looks a tad less delicate. She’d tied her hair back with a scarf, put on some makeup for the shops. She’s wearing a thin sweater, sufficiently warm from the oven being on and from working, from standing over a bowl and making sure every ingredient, ever motion of the spoon and setting on the mixer is perfect. Making sure the cake is perfect, so the birthday is perfect.

Louis comes to stand behind Harry, leaning over her shoulder to look. Harry doesn’t startle even a little bit.

“What’s the birthday theme?”

“Fairies. It’s a flower cake, but he only likes blue and purple flowers.”

Louis knows flower cakes are Harry’s prettiest cakes, knows exactly how perfect it’s going to look and how excited the birthday boy is going to be when he sees it.

“It’s going to be perfect.”

“That’s the plan.” Harry turns with the bowl in her hands, moving around Louis to pour the batter into a cake pan, scraping the sides down with a rubber spatula. Louis keeps watching, keeps thinking maybe things are actually a little okay now, maybe they’ll get to talk about it.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready? You said you’re meeting around 6, didn’t you?”

Shit. Shit shit shit. “Right, yeah. I guess I should change, at the very least.”

“Whatever.”

For that, for Harry’s suddenly cold demeanor, Louis stalls, drags out getting ready so it seems like she’s just busy instead of like she’s avoiding Harry and her attitude in the kitchen.

Louis washes her face from any sweat and grime she’d accumulated at work, letting her skin breathe for a few moments while she fixes her hair, pinning her fringe back in a small braid, spraying the rest into her usual pixie style. Then it’s makeup. She goes all out, or at least as all out as she knows how to. For her, that means foundation, concealer, powder, blush, eye shadow, eyeliner, mascara, and a lip gloss, all natural colors. She’d never ventured too far in the makeup world, liked to keep it pretty simple.

She wastes a good amount of time on her face before changing into a sweater, a skirt, and tights. She sprays on the tiniest bit of perfume, just on her wrists, and steps into her boots just as an alarm on her phone goes off, letting her know she needs to leave now to be on time. She turns the alarm off, stashes her phone away in her purse, and exits her room, braving the kitchen.

“Do I look alright?”

Harry turns from where she’s icing the cake. Louis would swear she’d started to tear up again, but if she had, her voice doesn’t betray it.

“You look fine.” She turns back to the cake.

Louis’ frustrated with the tension, with the mood swings and the lack of stability between them. She just wants to stop everything and force Harry to fix it, because she can’t stand this. She can’t stand fighting and being mad and having Harry be mad at her. She hates it.

But she’s late.

Louis slams the door behind her. Harry messes up a flower.

 

Her date isn’t as bad as she’d been hoping it would be. There’s no reason for her to leave suddenly, to go home to Harry and make things right. He’s actually kind of nice, in a friendly way.

His name’s Chris. He works in a library. He has glasses, blonde hair, and a sideways kind of smile. He’s not the worst Friday night Louis’ ever had. He can keep a conversation going, at least, and he eats just as many breadsticks as she does.

“I can’t help but notice that you seem a bit preoccupied.” Chris breaks Louis’ train of thought. She’d been thinking of how to fix her fight at home when she got back tonight. She didn’t mean to get so distracted; it just happened.

“Sorry. Got a bit distracted, didn’t I?” She smiles, tries to convince him everything’s fine.

“A bit, but don’t apologize. I’ll talk to myself for hours before realizing no one’s around to listen.”

“I completely understand _that_.” She bites her lip for a second, thinking. Not flowers, not candy. What’s something normal she could pick up to bring home as a peacemaking gift?

“Is everything alright?”

Louis shakes the thoughts out of her head. “Yeah, it is. I had a fight with my flatmate right before meeting you tonight. I guess I’m a bit stuck on it.”

“Flatmates can be nightmares.”

Louis scoffs. “Yeah, especially if they’re your best friend.”

Chris looks at her inquisitively. “Stop me if I’m prying too far, but did something big happen between you two?”

“No, well-sort of. She’s just been a bit strange for the past month or so. It makes it tense between us, sometimes. She was mad at me when I got home from work today, for some unknown reason. I don’t know why, but me going on this date seems to bother her.”

“Sounds like she’s jealous.”

Louis stops, thinks. “No, surely not. She’d tell me.”

Chris shrugs. “My boyfriend’s pretty upset with me, if it helps you feel any better.”

Louis stares at him while he sits calmly, like that’s a normal thing for him to say to a girl he’s on a date with.

Then, “Oh, thank god. That makes this so much easier.” She laughs a little, shocking herself with how relieved she is.

“Sorry to just drop that out of nowhere, but I felt like you should probably know. I’m not out to my sister just yet. She thinks I’m just having issues meeting women. This is the last date I let her force me into before I find some way to tell her. I have to say, though, you’re the most interesting person she’s set me up with. If I swung that way, I’d ask to meet you again.”

Louis giggles. “You’re more likely to run into me at a gay bar, I suppose.”

“Probably.” He smiles warmly. No hard feelings from either of them. This night had gone quite well, in Louis’ opinion.

 

 

The night had not gone quite so well at home. Louis finds the apartment dark, quiet. She kicks her boots off in the doorway, trying to be as silent as she can, in case Harry’d gone to bed.

But Harry hadn’t gone to bed.

Louis finds empty bottles in the kitchen and Harry in her own room, writing slowly into a notebook on her lap.

“Harry? I’m home.”

Harry looks up, her eyes not quite focusing immediately. “Lou.” She’s so drunk, she starts tearing up immediately.

Louis’ heart breaks a little at the sight of her. She sits down on the bed with Harry. It feels a little bit too much like it had earlier, in the morning.  
“What are you writing, love?”

“Poems. Songs. I don’t know. Not my books.”

“When’s the last time you wrote for your books?”

Harry shrugs sloppily. “Don’t know.”

“You can’t work at the bakery forever.”

“Yes I can.”

“Okay.” Louis doesn’t argue. She sits and watches Harry write for a little bit, trying to make out the words and letters. Harry’s drunken penmanship makes it difficult.

“Louis?”

“Yes, Haz?”

“It’s hard to be with you.”

Louis takes it like a knife to the heart, but she tries not to show it.

“Why is that?”

Harry looks like she’s struggling to piece her sentences together. “It’s…hard. I used to feel nice around you, but it’s too much now. I try too hard and it doesn’t feel right anymore. I messed it up, maybe.”

“You didn’t mess it up, love.”

“You call me ‘love’ a lot. I want that.”

Louis doesn’t understand, but she pretends she does. “You can have that.”

Harry shakes her head sadly. She’s crying again. It almost looks natural on her. “I can’t have that. I want it, but I can’t have it. There’s a lot of things like that.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” She really doesn’t.

Harry doesn’t answer for a while, looks like she’s really concentrating on trying not to cry, trying to find the right thing to say. Louis tries to calm herself down, tries not to get caught up in her emotions.

Harry speaks again, just when Louis thinks she’s going to explode from not knowing. “I don’t…um. I don’t think I want to live with you anymore.”

A million tiny knives, stabbing into Louis’ skin and veins and organs all in unison. She gets caught up in it. She’s crying with Harry.

“Don’t say that, Harry. You don’t mean it.”

Harry squeezes her eyes shut, nodding sadly. “I do. I do mean it.”

“No, love. You’re drunk.” Louis hates the sound of her voice, clouded with sudden sadness, ringing in her own ears.

“I know. I know I’m drunk. I still mean it. It just hurts.”

“What hurts, Haz? I’ll fix it. I promise.” She means it. She’ll fix anything to make Harry want to stay.

“You can’t.”

“I can.”

“No, Lou. Trust me.” Louis doesn’t want to trust her, but for someone who’s so out of it on alcohol, she sounds pretty sure.

“What did I do, Harry?”

Harry looks at her with eyes like galaxies and tears like oceans. “You didn’t. It’s me. I did it.”

“But you didn’t do anything. Everything’s fine.”

“No, nothing’s fine.” Louis’ whole world is shattering around her. She just wanted to come home and fix things and feel normal.

She just wants to make it normal.

“I’m sorry.” She’s crying just as hard as Harry, almost feels drunk, too.

Harry sniffs, reaching out to grasp Louis’ hand. She hasn’t even changed from her date yet. She didn’t even tell Harry she went on a date with a gay man.

“I’m sorry, Lou. Will you stay with me tonight?”

Louis is so confused and so hurt and so blindsided, but she still wants to give Harry the world, even if giving her the world just means sleeping in her bed for a night, so she nods. Strips down to her underwear, borrowing a t shirt from Harry to sleep in. Crawls under the covers. Squeezes her eyes shut and cries and tries to make this not real, tries to understand how it is. Tries to figure out what happened, how Harry could want to not live with her even as she’s pulling Louis’ arms away from her face and pulling her close. Pulling them together.

Pulling them in like one person even though it feels like they’re falling apart.


	6. The First Quiet Morning

There’s no music in the morning. Louis wakes up early while Harry sleeps off her hangover. Louis makes tea, showers, brushes her teeth like a zombie. She thinks of everything except her talk with Harry last night, thinks of anything that can keep her mind off of it. It hurts too much to deal with right now.

Harry’s still asleep by the time Louis’ dressed and styled. Well, “styled.” She’d pinned her fringe back, brushed on some mascara and lip balm. She sees no point in doing anything fancy today, plans on nothing more than sulking in leggings and a pullover. 

Hours pass. Louis quietly works on her laptop, sitting on the couch and waiting for Harry to wake up, waiting to hear her speak soberly. She just wants last night to be erased and for everything to be fixed.

Harry sleeps and Harry sleeps and Harry sleeps. Louis can’t keep still, can’t keep waiting. She has to do something, or she’s going to drown in her own panic. 

She calls Zayn. 

“Louis?” Zayn sounds concerned, understandably. Louis rarely calls anyone, usually sticks to texting. 

“Zayn, I…” she feels her voice starting to crack already, and she hates it. “I need to get out of the flat for a while.” Away from Harry, she doesn’t say. 

“Alright, babe. Do you want to come over? Should I come get you?”

“Is Liam there?” She doesn’t know if she can handle the sight of Zayn and Liam together when she doesn’t know where she and Harry stand. 

“No, she’s at work until late.” Zayn doesn’t ask why Louis wants to know. She probably understands, in that mysterious way that Zayn always seems to understand. 

“Okay. I’ll be over in a little bit.”

“Door’s unlocked. I’ll make tea.”

“Thanks.” Louis ends the call and shuts her laptop, but she doesn’t stand up immediately. She stays on the couch, trying to embrace her situation. 

She and Harry haven’t been apart since they met as children. She can’t remember ever being without her. She doesn’t know how to be without her. They’ve always done everything together: school, camp, vacation. She hadn’t even considered a time where they wouldn’t be…intimate, is the only word she can come up with that sounds fitting.

She looks through Harry’s bedroom door, sees her foot sticking out from the blanket. She hasn’t moved. 

Louis pushes herself off the couch, grabs her keys and wallet, steps into her boots, and leaves for Zayn’s.

 

 

“Harry doesn’t want to live with you anymore?” Zayn looks entirely perplexed. “That doesn’t sound right.”

“It doesn’t feel right.” Louis hovers over her tea, tries to feel warm again. She’s felt ice cold all night and all morning.

“Did she say why?”

“She was drunk. She said it’s hard to live with me, that something hurts, and that we can’t fix it.” 

Zayn shakes her head. “She talks some shit when she’s drunk, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, but it wasn’t the kind of drunk-talk she normally does. She started crying as soon as I walked in the door. She was writing.”

“Weird.” 

“Yeah, it was weird.” 

Zayn looks like she wants to say something, but she stays quiet. Louis stays quiet. And then, out of nowhere, Louis’ mad. She’s pissed beyond belief.

“It’s just-she’s been putting me through hell all month, blaring music and not sleeping and refusing to tell me anything. She hardly even spoke to me yesterday. I didn’t even do anything. And now she’s just decided to drop this bomb on me out of nowhere.”

“She was drunk, Lou. She probably doesn’t remember saying it. Did you talk to her this morning?”

“No, she slept in late. Hungover.”

“You need to talk to her and work it out. You guys have had fights before. You’ll get through it.”

“It’s not just some stupid fight, though. It’s bigger than that, and I don’t even know what it’s about.” 

“I don’t know what else to tell you, babe. You and Harry have always worked out before. I don’t see her throwing away your friendship over something she won’t even talk about.”

Louis looks at Zayn, really looks at her. Her black, perfect hair. Her warm, brown eyes. Her thick eyelashes, tiny nose ring, lush lips. Her warmth and kindness seeps through her beauty, and she’s not even trying. Louis sees why Liam loves her so much. 

“Zayn, how exactly did you and Liam get together?”

Zayn looks at her inquisitively, but answers the question. “It’s been forever since it happened. I got high one night and told her. She told me she was straight. I kind of forgot about it, that’s how high I was. She acted weird for a week and then got in bed with me and told me that she was definitely not straight after all. It’s kind of just worked out since then.”

“It seems like you two were made for each other, you know.”

“That’s how you and Harry seem to the rest of us.”

Louis looks away, like she’s been struck. “I’m kind of obvious, aren’t I?”

“I think you’ve always been in love with her. I figured it was just taking you a while to figure things out.” 

“I didn’t even think about it. It’s just always been true. I’ve never needed to actually tell her.” And now she can’t tell her. The thought sends tears rushing to her eyes. 

“Maybe you should now. Maybe it’ll help.”

Louis shakes her head. “No, no I can’t. It’ll make things too complicated, and I really won’t be able to fix it.”  
“Or maybe it’ll make everything alright.”

“It won’t. Harry doesn’t want to be together, not like that. She would have said something, or at least hinted at it. I know she would have.”

“Maybe she’s scared.”

“She wouldn’t be trying to move out if she felt that way, Zayn. It doesn’t make any sense.”

“It doesn’t necessarily have to make sense to us. It just has to make sense to her. I think she’s panicking and trying to run away from her problems.”

“I’m not telling her.”

“That’s your choice, I suppose.” Zayn reaches out and takes Louis’ mug from her. “Your tea’s gone cold.”

 

 

Louis comes back to the flat late in the afternoon. Zayn had sent her off with hugs and promises that things would be okay. But Zayn was very, very wrong. 

Harry isn’t in her room. Or the kitchen, or the bathroom, or the lounge. She’s nowhere. Louis thinks maybe she’d gone out, at first, but when she looks in the bathroom, she notices:

Harry’s toothbrush.

Harry’s soap.

Harry’s makeup.

Harry’s hairpins.

They’re gone. It’s all gone. Louis rushes to Harry’s room and rummages through her closet, pulls everything out to be absolutely sure. Harry’s travel bag is gone. So are her boots, her coat, some of her clothes, some of her notebooks. 

Harry’s gone. 

Everything is awful and unpredictable and Harry. Is. Gone. 

Louis wants to run away from her problems like Harry does. She wants to pack a bag and leave, go anywhere but here. Anywhere that won’t make her think of Harry, but everywhere makes her think of Harry. Everything is tainted by her.

Then it hits Louis.

Harry knew. Harry knew what Louis felt, and she didn’t know how to turn her down without ruining things. She didn’t want to keep living with her, felt uncomfortable with her. Louis made Harry want to leave.

Louis sits on Harry’s bed for so long. She doesn’t want to leave. She doesn’t want to forget their flat, their home. She wants to absorb Harry’s room so she’ll never forget their shared space. So she’ll never forget Harry, when they inevitably distance themselves from each other. She doesn’t know what to do. 

She can’t think of a single thing she can do to make this right. Harry was right. She can’t fix it.

Louis sits for so long that the sun starts to set, when someone knocks on the door to their apartment. What used to be their apartment. What won’t be their apartment for very much longer.

She hopes it’s Harry, but she dreads seeing Harry. She doesn’t answer the door. It’s unlocked, anyway. Whoever it is, they figure it out quickly enough. Louis hears the door shut. Seconds later, a head pops in the doorway.

It’s not Harry. It’s Niall. 

“Hey, Lou. Zayn told me. You didn’t answer your phone. Thought I’d come check in on you and Harry.”

“Harry’s gone.” It hurts Louis to say the words aloud. 

“What?”

“She left. Her bag’s gone.”

“Where?”

“Don’t know.” 

Niall comes in, sits next to Louis on the bed and lets her be quiet for a few minutes before gently starting to care for her. 

“You didn’t even take your boots off, Lou. Let me help.” Niall kneels and unties Louis’ boots, pulls them off her feet. Then she takes Louis’ scarf and jacket, pulls her to her feet and guides her to her own room, shutting Harry’s door and turning off Harry’s lights. 

Niall looks through Louis’ wardrobe, pulls out joggers and a looser, thinner top. Easier breathing, lighter weight on her chest. “Change into that, Lou. I’m calling Ziam.” She ducks out into the kitchen, puts the kettle on. Louis can hear it. Why does everyone think tea fixes everything?

Louis changes slowly and joins Niall in the kitchen as she’s hanging up the phone, sitting on the counter. Niall hands her a cup of tea and some biscuits, trying to comfort her the best she can. “Zayn and Liam are coming over. Have you talked to her, Lou? Texted her?”

“No.”

“You don’t have to right away, but I think it’s a good idea.” 

“Maybe.”

Niall sits on the counter with her, eats most of the biscuits. Zayn and Liam turn up just as Niall seems to be getting restless, kicking off their boots and stripping out of their coats in the doorway. Walking in hand-in-hand, sending lightning through Louis’ heart.

“Hey, Lou.” Liam sounds almost as sad as her. She hugs Louis, lets her cling on as long as she needs. Zayn goes next, squeezing her tight. 

“I’m sorry, babe. It’ll be okay. She’s just throwing a fit.”

Louis doesn’t say anything, just presses her face into Zayn’s shoulder. She’s so sick of crying, but it keeps happening. She doesn’t feel in control of herself anymore. 

Niall hops off the counter, helps Zayn help Louis down. They all sit around the table together, Niall, Liam, and Zayn carefully watching Louis like she’ll break at any minute. 

“Have you talked to her at all, Louis?” Liam asks. She just wants to help. Louis can feel how badly Liam hates this situation, how much she wants to fix it. Louis doesn’t have the heart to tell her it can’t be fixed.

“No. I came home and she was just gone.”

Zayn reaches out and takes Louis’ hand. “Call her. It’s been long enough; she’ll have calmed down.”

“I don’t know.”

“Trust me. It’ll help more than not talking to her. You’ll feel better. Leave a message if she doesn’t pick up.”

Louis sighs, stands and takes her phone into her room. Her fingers shake while she dials. 

The phone rings. And rings. And rings.

And Harry picks up. She doesn’t say anything, but she picks up. Louis’ heart is pounding so loud in her ears, she can hardly hear herself speak. 

“Harry?”

Nothing. 

“Harry, I think you’re there, so I’m going to keep talking.” She inhales, summons all of her strength. “I don’t know why you left, but I’m guessing it has something to do with what you told me last night. I don’t like that you left. I wish you’d stayed so we could talk about it.”

Harry says nothing. Louis’ not really sure she’s even listening, but she keeps talking. 

“It really hurts that you left, Haz, and it hurts that you won’t talk to me. I just wanted to make things right. I don’t know, maybe it got to be too much for you and that’s why you left, but it’s not going to get better just because you ran away from this.”

Still nothing on the other end. 

“I miss you, Harry. I’ve missed you for weeks and I miss you now. This doesn’t feel right at all.”

Louis imagines she hears Harry take in a breath. It hurts an impossible amount. 

“Where did you go, Harry? Just tell me that. I need to know.”

There’s a long stretch of silence, then Harry’s voice crackles through. “Home.” 

Louis knows what she means, knows she means Holmes Chapel, with her parents, but she wants to scream into the receiver that Harry was already home, that she left her home. 

“Okay. Just come back soon, please. Or at least talk to me. I don’t know what to do.”

Harry says nothing else. Louis squeezes her eyes shut tight, trying to block out her emotions. 

“Fine, then. I’ll leave you alone for the night. I love you, Harry.”

She waits, but still, Harry says nothing. Louis hangs up and throws her phone into a pile of blankets on her bed, shaking as sobs wrack her body. The girls are in her room in seconds, gathering around her, shushing her and telling her they love her. 

Louis sobs into someone’s neck, “She wouldn’t even speak to me. She left, and she won’t even tell me anything.” 

Someone’s hand rubs her back. Zayn whispers, “I know, Lou. She’s being selfish right now. Give her time. She’ll come back to you.” 

Louis cries for what feels like hours. The girls all pile into bed with her, forming a giant, blanket-covered nest. Zayn and Liam hold hands over Louis and Niall’s heads. Louis shakes and sobs until she tires herself out and falls asleep with her face buried in Niall’s shoulder. 

Niall looks down at her, looks heartbroken in sympathy. “Do you think they’ll figure it out?”

Zayn looks at Louis’ red, exhausted face. 

“I don’t know.”


	7. The Second Quiet Morning

It feels wrong to wake up to a quiet flat. Harry’s conditioned her to waking up to music, maybe. It feels alright, at first, a little strange, but then Louis remembers why it’s quiet. She looks over, and sure enough, Niall and Zayn are still in bed with her. Liam’s awake and probably busying herself with cleaning or cooking already. It’ll be Liam, not Harry, in the kitchen when Louis walks in.

It occurs to Louis that she doesn’t even know what happened to the cake Harry was working on so meticulously before she tried to drown herself in alcohol.

Louis lays still for a while, trying to will herself to fall back asleep, but it doesn’t work. The early sun is too bright, reflecting off of the bit of snow that had accumulated last night. Niall’s light snores are too irregular to lull her back into any sort of relaxation. Zayn’s elbow is somehow stuck in Louis’ rib no matter how much she shifts. Knowing there’s no chance of the other two waking for hours, she gives in eventually and pushes herself out of bed and into the world.

Liam, as predicted, has made herself useful in the flat while waiting on the others. She’s on the couch, folding laundry with her headphones in. Louis drops on the cushion next to her, noting how the entire room seems a bit tidier. Liam takes out her headphones.

“Hey, Lou. Feeling any better?”

Louis shrugs. “Dunno. Not really.”

“I guess that’s to be expected.”

“Maybe.” Louis watches Liam for a few moments. “Li, you don’t have to clean while you’re here.”

Liam hums in disagreement. “I want to do it. I want to be helpful. Besides, I know how rough it gets when something’s happened and the flat’s a mess. It feels like everything’s a huge wreck.”

“You feel like that often?” Louis wouldn’t have guessed it, not from Liam’s usually calm and pleasant demeanor. Actually, she can’t really think of any time she’s really seen Liam very upset.

Liam shakes her head, smiling despondently. “No, but Zayn gets that way sometimes. I can’t always make the situation better, so I try to make everything around her as best as it can be. It seems to help a little. If that’s all I can do for her, at least I’m doing something.”

Louis knows that in theory, Zayn gets quite upset, though she’s always composed and quiet in front of most of the girls. Harry’s told her a few times about Zayn being upset and talking to Harry about it when her head was sorted again. Zayn’s mentioned a few things in passing to Louis, but she’s never wanted to go into further detail when Louis asks. She has a theory that Zayn only gives out little bits of information at a time to an array of people, so she can still mostly maintain her mysterious and unperturbed demeanor. However, Louis knows that even if her theory is true, Zayn is still human and still has problems like everyone.

Sometimes she takes on more work than she can actually handle and she reaches a breaking point, not able to finish her paintings in time and loathing herself for it. Sometimes she needs space and doesn’t know how to say it, so she ends up snapping at Liam and the other girls and feels guilty about it for days. Sometimes she misses her family and regrets moving away from them. Louis remembers a year ago, Zayn’s sister had been ill and had spent a few days in the hospital. Zayn had been distraught; she hadn’t been able to afford to immediately go be with her family. Louis vaguely remembers Liam taking off work to drive Zayn and a car full of art supplies to Bradford.

Thinking back on it, Liam seems to be the one who always fixes things when Zayn needs help. It’s just done so quietly that Louis’ never had to think about it before; she’d subconsciously accepted it as a truth of life and didn’t ponder it further.

“You do more than just that for her, Li. You’re probably the only person she trusts enough to let help her.”

Liam smiles again, a bit happier this time. Louis reaches into the basket between them and starts folding with her, even though it’s a bit sloppy.

Liam breaks their calm silence after a few shirts. “I always wanted what you and Harry have, you know. I think I found it with Zayn. It’s a bit different, for sure, but I think we make each other as happy as you and Harry always seemed together, even just as friends.”

Louis tries to ignore the stinging in the back of her throat. “Yeah, well, that’s all gone to shit now.”

Liam furrows her brow and shakes her head, still folding, not looking over at Louis. “No, it hasn’t. It’s not great at the moment, no, but it’s fixable. I’ve seen the two of you work through much worse. Remember Eleanor?”

Louis winces. She does remember, in fact, because how could she not? Eleanor and Louis had dated for a while at uni. Harry grew jealous of the time Louis spent with El, who was jealous of the time Louis spent with Harry. It was a very tense few months, only ending when Eleanor grew angry enough that she told Louis she’d have to pick between her and Harry. Louis had ended things with her immediately.

“You two were fine once that blew over. You’ll be fine once this starts to fix itself.”

“It can’t fix itself. We’ve never wanted to be apart from each other before. I don’t know how to handle it at all. I’ve never not been with Harry, but I can’t just make her stay with me if she doesn’t want to.”

Liam shakes her head. “Honestly, you two are so thick.”

“Excuse me?”

“You two are _thick_ , I said. Harry’s not going anywhere and she knows it. She’s just off having a strop in Holmes Chapel while you have one here.”

“I don’t know what nonsense you’re talking, Liam.”

Liam finishes her neat stack of clothes by throwing a folded pair of Harry’s jeans on top in a huff, turning to face Louis, looking amazed that she doesn’t understand. “You two have always loved each other, and I’m convinced you’ve actually been in love for quite some time now without properly addressing it. Think about that for a while before you try calling her again.”

Louis sits in silence while Liam puts away the laundry, thinking about it. It doesn’t add up quite right in her head, though. Harry wouldn’t have left. She wouldn’t have said anything about wanting to move out. She’s _Harry_ , she would have flirted or brought it up jokingly or something, anything.

Right?

She’s fazed by the possibility, hardly noticing her own feet as she follows Liam into the kitchen, or her own hands as she clutches a mug of tea. Liam cooks. Louis thinks.

She doesn’t want to give herself false hope, but she can’t help but to imagine what it would be like if Harry did feel the same way. She imagines coming into the bakery more often, maybe Harry showing up at the coffee shop. Coming home to Harry and being allowed to wrap her arms around her, being allowed to kiss her neck. Waking up beside Harry’s still face, gorgeous in the morning light. Brushing her hair for her without question or hesitation, pressing kisses to her tears when she gets overwhelmed, laughing drunkenly into her mouth when they celebrate.

Louis’ eyes and cheeks burn with how much she wants it.

Niall wanders into the kitchen as Liam’s serving portions on four plates. She drops herself into the chair besides Louis, sleepily resting her arms on the table. “Mornin’, early birds.”

“It’s nearly eleven,” Liam points out.

“Like I said.”

Liam rolls her eyes fondly, setting pans and the like in the sink. “Zayn’s nowhere near awake, is she?”

“Still dead asleep, as far as I could tell.”

Liam sets the four plates out on the table, delighting Niall and waking her up a significant amount. “I think I’ll have a go at getting her up.”

She walks off towards Louis’ room, ignoring Niall muttering, “I bet you will” with her mouth full.

Louis picks at her eggs quietly, too preoccupied with her thoughts to have any interest in eating.

“Y’alright, Lou?”

“Hm? Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you think you’ll try Harry’s phone again today?”

“Possibly. Probably not until later, though. I’m sure she’s practically hibernating at her parents’.”

Niall hums in agreement around a mouthful of toast. The girls sit quietly for a few moments, waiting for Liam to come back. In the quiet, they can hear the two girls in the other room softly whispering and giggling to each other. The sounds of Liam’s attempts to get Zayn fully awake and out of bed permeate the fragile imaginings in Louis’ mind, placing her and Harry in a make-believe bed, waking each other up with kisses and secret words.

She quickly takes a drink of tea, trying to chase the thoughts out of her head. She sets her cup back down as Liam reenters the kitchen, followed by a pleasantly half-awake Zayn, who sits on Louis’ other side, shoving her lightly.

“Feeling any better?”

Louis shrugs. Sleep helped, but in all honesty, she doesn’t know that she’ll really feel okay until she talks to Harry.

They make plans for the day over brunch. Louis knows they’re trying to get her out and distracted so that she won’t sit around and mope all day, but all that she really wants to do is nap on the couch and forget everything that’s happened. Just one day of ignoring the world around her sounds like heaven, but she knows it really wouldn’t fix anything.

So she helps Liam clean up in the kitchen after they eat, and she lets Niall pick out a dumb sweater to wear for shopping, and she doesn’t complain when they drag her out of the house for the day.

She sends Harry a few texts throughout shopping, telling her little things that seem stupid when Harry’s not there to enjoy them with her. The girls help her get a Christmas tree and pick out wrapping paper and presents for her sisters. They split up briefly so that Zayn and Liam can shop for each other without any chance of ruining surprises. Niall goes to one end of the shopping Center with Liam, and Zayn and Louis start at the other.

Louis looks for presents for Harry as they go through the stores, but nothing seems right. Zayn helps her find a few novelties that Harry will like: a journal with fairies on the cover, glitter pens with fruit-scented ink, mermaid socks, etc. They’re nice enough, but Louis wants to give her something special.

Assuming she comes back for Christmas.

The thought of Harry not coming back for the holiday strikes real terror in Louis’ heart. Zayn picks up on the mood swing and calmly texts the other girls, telling them that she and Louis are finished. The group reconnects and heads back to Louis’ apartment, only stopping at Niall’s briefly so that she can pick up some clothes.

Back at the apartment, Niall and Liam set up the tree while Zayn starts a Christmas movie and Louis sulks beside her on the couch. It should feel warm and cheery, but it’s not right. Harry’s not home.

That thought, with those exact words, make Louis’ eyes prickle. Harry is her home and always has been, and she’s always tried to be the same for her. They feel right together. They’ve always felt like home, no matter where they actually were.

Louis excuses herself to her bedroom, pulling her phone out of her pocket, feeling her hands shake in anticipation. She knows Harry likely won’t answer the phone, but she has hope.

She dials and the phone rings. Louis’ heart beats in her ears, realizing that she doesn’t even know what she’s going to say. Anything could come out when she opens her mouth to speak.

She gets Harry’s voicemail. It hurts to know that she won’t even answer Louis’ call.

“Hi, Haz.”

She panics. Doesn’t know what to follow up with.

“We got a tree today. Me and the girls.”

She has no idea where she’s going with this.

“I’m not decorating it until you come home.”

Home. Home to Louis. Home to _their_ apartment and to _their_ tree and to _their_ Christmas.

Suddenly, she’s angry. It keeps creeping up on her.

“It’s not fair of you to run off like this, especially at this time of year. It’s not fair that you won’t pick up the phone or answer my texts. I can’t fix this by myself. I can’t do anything about it while you’re off hiding in Holmes Chapel. This is something we have to work out together, but you’re making it impossible.”

Her breath catches in her throat when all of her emotions come rushing up and out and into the receiver. It feels like fire rushing up her back and consuming her whole. And then, as quickly as it came, it leaves. Louis’ ice cold, empty.

Her voice breaks. “I miss you.”

She stands for a minute, processing what she’s said. Her face flames when she realizes how crazy she must sound. She hangs up and stuffs her phone into the back of her sock drawer, not wanting to see it anymore, not even if Harry calls back. She won’t, anyway.

Louis drops into her head, burying her face in a pillow and trying to hold in hot tears. Angry tears. Desperate tears. Heartbroken tears.

Zayn comes in after a little while to check in on her. Finding Louis as she is, she sits next to her, rubbing a hand up her back.

“It’ll turn out okay, Lou.”

Louis doesn’t turn to look at her, doesn’t relax under her touch. She can hear the doubt in Zayn’s voice.

No one really knows anymore that it will be okay.


	8. The Third Quiet Morning

Zayn wakes Louis up by crawling into bed with her. Louis looks around, disoriented. She was sure she’d fallen asleep with Niall next to her. Liam and Zayn had gone home the night before, deciding to give Louis some space but leaving Niall to stay with her. Niall had taken Harry’s bed for approximately 20 minutes before barging into Louis’ room, claiming she could “feel the sadness fucking creeping in through the wall.” Louis had passed out from exhaustion moments after, too tired to even be disturbed by Niall’s snores.

Louis lays there for a minute, trying to figure out how things had worked out to this. She shuts her eyes and whacks Zayn lightly with the back of her hand. Zayn grumbles softly in response, muttering a barely coherent, “what?”

“Where’s Niall?” Louis asks, startled by the rough sound of her own voice.

“Work. Liam too. Left me to take care of you.” With that, Zayn rolls over so she’s not facing Louis anymore, falling asleep within seconds. Louis stays awake just long enough to be amused by it before losing herself to sleep as well.

  

When she wakes again, Zayn’s no longer in bed with her. Louis can hear her moving around in the apartment somewhere, so she knows she’s not alone. She stays in bed for a few minutes, trying to find peace in the stillness, but all that she really gets is another wave of emotion. She bites it back as best as she can, eventually pushing herself up out of bed to try and find distraction.

She finds Zayn in Harry’s room, in the midst of what appears to be deep-cleaning. There’s no sheets on Harry’s bed, but all of her writings and books and trinkets are stacked up on the mattress while Zayn shoves an impossible amount of clothing into an already-full washing basket. She looks up unapologetically when she sees Louis standing in the doorframe. 

“Hey, Lou.”

“What are you doing?” Louis asks, even though it’s obvious.

 “Taking care of this disaster. Harry’s never this messy, I swear…” she trails off, muttering to herself as she sorts through another stack of notebooks on the floor. Louis sits on the edge of the mattress, watching Zayn work.

 “She’s not usually like this.”

 “I know,” Zayn quips, “and she’ll go back to normal. I just can’t stand her room like this. It’s wrong.”

 “Yeah.” Louis looks around. “You know you don’t have to clean for her, though. Right?”

 Zayn shrugs. “It’s been bothering me. I’m learning a lot while I’m in here anyway, so I don’t mind.”

 “What do you mean?”

 Zayn is shamelessly looking over Harry’s scrawled handwriting. Louis recognizes the notebook. It’s from college. Louis feels like she should tell Zayn to put it down, but Louis’ curious too.

 “I haven’t really seen much of her writing,” Zayn responds. “She’s good. You’re in here a lot, you know.”

 “She wrote about me?”

 “Not always directly, but you can tell what she means.” Zayn looks up from the notebook to stare pointedly at Louis. “She cares a lot for you.”

 Louis looks down at her knees. “Don’t know why. I haven’t been that great for her recently.”

 “She won’t let you be. It’s not your fault.”

 “I don’t know.” Louis doesn’t really know about any of this. She knows she loves Harry. She knows that she feels right with Harry. She’s just having a hard time believing that Harry could feel anything for her and still run off like this, despite what all the other girls keep telling her.

 “Do you want to talk about it?”

Louis shrugs. “I don’t know, Zayn. I’m just really confused and I wish that she were here so I could fix it for us. She’s not letting me help at all.” 

“I think it’s something she needs to work through herself before she adds you to the mix.”

“But why?”

Zayn picks up another notebook, flipping through the thin pages. “It’s just how she is. It sucks for right now, but she’ll come home and make it right.”

“I don’t know that she will come home.” 

Zayn stays entirely calm while Louis tries to not melt into a pile of numb worry. “She will. Don’t stress over it too much. She’d never leave you alone for Christmas.”

In her heart, Louis knows Harry isn’t the type of person to just completely abandon her. She just can’t stop thinking about the possibility that she’s really, truly losing her best friend. Her soulmate. The thought makes Louis want to laugh and cry and be sick all at once. God, she needs a distraction.

“I didn’t finish my shopping yesterday,” Louis says, hoping to leave the current conversation topic. What she really means is that she never got a decent enough gift for Harry. Zayn probably knows what she means.

“I know. If you get ready, we can go out. Should probably get food at some point, too. All you have is tea and the healthy shit Harry keeps buying.”

Louis can’t help but to smile a little at that. She hides it by leaving Zayn to finish organizing, going to shower and make herself look more presentable. Maybe things can get better.

 

"None of this is right for her," Louis complains. She and Zayn have been in and out of countless shops. Louis just can't seem to find the right gift for Harry. She's come across things that she'd like well enough, sure, but she can't find actually find anything  _good._ It's making her a bit crazy.

"I don't think you're going to be happy with just buying her something, Lou."

"What're you talking about?" Louis picks up a book, reading over the back before setting it back down. They're in a bookstore. That's how desperate she is. She hates giving books as gifts unless they're books that someone specifically requested, yet here she is.

"You just might be better off trying to make something, maybe."

"Did you make Liam's gift?"

Zayn wrinkles her nose to try and hide the obvious affection blooming on her face. "I may have sketched something, sure. But you can't draw, so I wouldn't try something like that."

"What am I supposed to do?" Louis' getting more and more desperate with each passing second. She knows getting the "perfect" gift for Harry won't magically solve their problems, but it would be nice to have one thing set up right between them. She just wants one, solid, tangible symbol of stability between them. 

"Well, think about what Harry does for you. Try to go off of that."

Louis pauses for a moment to think. Harry cooks. She cleans, when she's not losing her mind. She takes care of Louis when she's sick. She crawls into bed with her when she can't sleep. She listens to Louis talk about being homesick, about being unsure about the future, about worrying over deep fears, like aging and a lack of permanence. She absorbs it all and leaves Louis feeling whole again.

"She does a lot."

"Yeah. You both do a lot for each other. But what does she do for you that you don't do for her?"

Louis tries to think. She isn't sure. She tries to reciprocate as best as she can. She tries to cook for Harry, even though she's rubbish at it. She cleans when she has to. She brings Harry tea and keeps her company when she's sick. She sleeps with her when Harry's lonely. She'd listen to Harry talk about anything for hours. She never tires of what Harry has to say. 

It hits Louis.

"She writes." Even if she isn't allowed to read it, Louis' known that Harry's written for her before. Zayn had even verified it while cleaning in the morning. 

"Maybe try something related to that." Zayn has a look on her face, one that means she knows she's turned Louis in the right direction. Louis couldn't be more grateful.

"I have to have some photos printed," Louis says absently, an idea working its way through her mind. She feels better with a plan. It's starting to get better again. 

She just has to keep it going.

 

Zayn goes with Louis to help her pick up what she needs, and then she helps her finish cleaning up the flat. Liam and Niall drop by after work. Niall brings food. They eat and decorate and Louis works on Harry's gift. It feels familiar, even if it's lacking an entire person. Louis feels more relaxed than she has in weeks. It feels like things are coming together again. For the first time, she starts to believe that Harry really will come home and that they really will work things out for the best.

Zayn and Liam leave Niall with Louis again, despite Louis insisting that she'll be alright on her own. In the end, she's glad for the company. Niall sits up with her while she works, only falling asleep around 1 after Louis had put on some children's show, one that Harry watches to calm herself. Louis had looked up from her progress only when Niall hadn't responded to a direct question, finding the blonde girl with eyes shut tight and mouth open, already snoring a little. She'd smiled at the sight and draped a blanket over Niall, turning the show off and beginning to clean up the work station she'd set up for herself on the floor.

 

Louis turns the lights in the apartment off, leaving only the fairy lights on the tree on. She peeks into Harry's room once more before heading to her own, just pleased to see it looking more hospitable. More Harry, really.

Louis shuts her door and changes into a sleep shirt, readying herself for what's sure to be a deep sleep. She doesn't go to bed immediately, though. She sits on the edge of her mattress, pulling the blankets up around her hips and thighs while she dials Harry's number. Harry doesn't pick up, but Louis didn't really expect her to. She tries not to let her voice shake when she leaves a voicemail. It's a little easier tonight.

"Hey, Haz. I just...I wanted to check in, I guess. I'm sorry I was cross with you. I was just confused. If going home was what you needed, then I'm glad you went. I just hope you'll come home to me for Christmas. It really won't be the same without you."

Louis tries to not think about it too much. It really wouldn't be the same without her. She gets lost in the possibility for a moment before smiling a little, falling back into the assurance that Harry wouldn't dare stay away for the holiday. Harry would come home. She's sure of it.

"I miss you. I love you."

Truth burns Louis' eyes, ears, and throat. It feels more like warming up after being cold and less like being lit on fire. It's a good feeling. It makes her feel stronger.

"Goodnight, Haz."

Louis hangs up, at peace with how she'd handled that. She sets her phone down and finishes her routine, taking out her contacts and flipping her bedside light off. She sleeps hard, like it's the first real sleep she's gotten after months of exhaustion. 

It helps knowing she'll wake up to a better tomorrow. 


	9. I'll Be Home For Christmas (aka the morning of Dolly Parton)

This is possibly the first time that Louis' been happy to wake up to the music. It's Dolly Parton this morning, her lilting voice singing promises of being home for Christmas. Harry's back, then. Louis can't even move at first, too overwhelmed by relief and joy to be able to stand. She manages after a few minutes, clicking her door open just as the song is ending. Harry's nowhere to be found. The song starts over.

Louis feels a little like she's stuck in a rom-com and a horror film at the same time. This feels like good things are happening, but Harry still isn't here. Louis can't look at her face and feel solid again. She can't feel fixed yet. 

_I'll be home for Christmas..._

This is Harry's promise that she'll be home. She is home, though, is the confusing part. Her bags are in her room, her soap's back in the shower, and her hair pins are back on the bathroom floor, like she'd stood there this morning. She's been home. She just didn't stay there.

Louis walks around the flat for a bit, trying to figure out what's going on. Niall's stirring on the couch, finally. Louis doesn't know how she'd slept through the music for this long already.

There's a note on Louis' door. She nearly swallows her tongue when she notices it, rushing towards it and snatching it in her hand. It's pink paper, with a half-assed sketch of a Christmas tree done in purple, glittery ink. There's no words written on it, but it doesn't need words. Louis knows what Harry meant by leaving it. It calms her immediately, letting her breathe fully while she clutches the note in her hand.

Niall nearly falls off the couch when she jerks awake finally, making a startled, sleepy sound. "Fuck." Louis tries not to laugh. Everything's hilarious right now, though, because everything is perfect. Harry is back. 

"Lou?"

Louis looks to Niall, tries to keep her dreamy feeling out of her eyes. "Hm?"

"Are you alright?" Niall's voice is gravelly with concern and exhaustion.

Louis smiles. "I'm great." She tries not to laugh out loud with how happy she feels. "Harry's home."

 

 

Louis waits all. Damn. Day. She cleans, cooks, works on finishing Harry's gift. Niall tries to help keep her busy, tries to help her pass the time, but nothing really helps. She's useless, is the thing. She can't sit still for more than two seconds, constantly jumping up to see if the sound she heard was Harry coming in the door. It hasn't been Harry so far, but she keeps checking. She knows she's coming back. She can't wait. 

Niall does what she can, but she apologetically leaves around 7. "Sorry, mate. I'm working tonight, or I'd stay. Li and Zayn will come check on you, I'm sure. Text me when something happens?"

Louis nods, hardly hearing Niall's words. The outside world is fading. Nothing except for Harry coming home matters anymore.

By some miracle, Louis manages to make herself sit down for more than twenty minutes. She'd run out of things to do, honestly. Television was her last resort for occupying her attention. The twenty minutes she'd allocated herself soon expanded into a number of hours, as she'd fallen asleep fairly quickly, the tension and exhaustion of the last few days overcoming her excitement after a long day of anticipation. 

She wakes sometimes around 11. There's music in the flat, which is familiar, but it's softer, coming from the bathroom. The sound of running water covers it, somewhat. Louis nearly falls over with how quickly she jumps to her feet when she realizes there's music and water because  _Harry's home._

Louis knocks on the bathroom door, praying for a response that doesn't come. She worries that Harry doesn't want to talk to her, but she reasons with herself, deciding that it's possible that Harry can't hear her knocking over the sounds of the shower. She'd wait, normally, but she'd done enough waiting today. It's been ages since she saw Harry. She needs something, and she needs it immediately, even if it's just the sound of Harry's voice saying a "hello."

Louis pushes the door open slowly, peeking in very briefly to make sure she isn't going to interrupt anything _too_ private. She can see Harry's form through the shower curtain, but that's all, so she feels safe to intrude, safe to check in with her girl. If she knows Harry at all, then she knows Harry will understand how Louis can't stand to wait any longer. 

"Harry?"

There's a few seconds where Louis thinks Harry hasn't heard her. She considers backing out of the bathroom, feeling increasingly unwelcome, but then Harry's voice (mercifully) travels through the steamy air. "Lou?" 

Louis swears she feels her heart try to climb its way out of her throat. "Harry, I'm so sorry. I just-"

Harry cuts her off immediately, voice spilling over and around the shower curtain. "No, Lou. I'm sorry. I shouldn't have left like I did."

"If you needed to leave, though-"

"I did need to." That hurts a bit. "But I still shouldn't have done it how I did. I should have talked to you about it. I should have told you I was going."

Louis doesn't know exactly what she should say to that. She settles for, "I'm just glad you're back."

Harry's voice is a touch more somber when she replies. "I never meant to make you think that I wasn't coming back. I'll always come back. I promise." 

Louis feels a little calmed by that. Her heart starts to warm again. "I'm glad to hear that." She bites her lip, but it doesn't stop her from blurting out her next question. "Why did you go, Haz?"

Louis can hear Harry sigh. "I needed to figure some things out."

"Things like not living with me anymore?" Louis can't help the bitterness that creeps into her voice. That wound was too recent to have healed over yet.

"God, no. Lou, I'm so sorry. Of course I want to keep living with you. I love you. I just...I needed to talk to my mum. I needed to clear my head a little."

All Louis hears is  _I needed to get away from you._ "Okay." She doesn't mean that it's okay.

The shower curtain jerks to one side suddenly, Harry peeking her head of wet curls around to look at Louis with a fierce expression. "Louis Tomlinson, I was not running away from you. I did not want to leave you. You need to understand that. I needed a change of environment for a few days, just so I could work out how I really felt."

Louis nods slowly, taken by surprise at Harry's ability to read her mind. Harry seems pleased with her response, pulling the shower curtain out again, returning to her shower. 

Louis can't think for a few minutes, trying to process everything. "What do you mean, how you really felt?"

There's hesitation from Harry. Louis can tell that even though she can't see her. 

"I just...I've been thinking about things. Things that are bothering me. I think I finally worked them out in my head, though."

"That's vague," Louis acknowledges.

"Bloody hell, just- here. Get out for a moment, let me wash my hair. I'll be out in a few minutes. We can talk then."

Louis mutters an acceptance of these terms, shutting the bathroom door again. She feels better, knowing that Harry's here, and that she's here to stay. She still isn't quite sure of exactly what's happening, but it seems like they're making progress, at least. 

Louis' got two cups of tea ready when Harry finally emerges from the shower, wrapped up in towels. She looks healthy, pinked up from the hot water. There's a little more life in her eyes than there has been. She sits at the table with Louis. 

Louis passes a cup over to Harry, trying to figure out how to ask the questions she needs answers to. "So..." she starts, trying to not fuck up what she's going to say. "What exactly is it that's been bothering you?"

Harry looks like she's choosing her words just as carefully as Louis is. After fighting with herself to decide what to say, she blurts something out. "I care for someone." She looks like she's trying to reign herself in. "A lot. I care for someone a lot, and I couldn't see that someone ever caring for me the same way. I mean, I'm such a mess. I can't commit to anything with my writing, I can't sleep, I'm so emotional all the time-"

Louis can't stop herself from interrupting. She's so nervous from the implications of what Harry's saying that her filter has completely eroded. "You're not a mess."

Harry smiles gently. "What I was  _going_ to say was that I think I figured things out about this person. I think maybe they do care for me. I think maybe we've cared for each other for a long time, and we just haven't quite worked it out before now."

Louis knows that Harry's talking about her, but she can hardly believe it. Her heart's pounding so, so loudly. "What's going to happen with this person? 

Harry looks a little lost for words, but she doesn't look bothered by it. "I...am not quite sure. I think that this person and I probably both need a tiny bit of time to adjust to everything that's gone on for the last few days. I think it's being dealt with. I think that maybe Christmas will bring a few surprises for both of us." 

Louis wrinkles her nose affectionately. "You've always had a thing for Christmas magic, haven't you." It isn't a question.

Harry smiles. "How can I not? It's your birthday."

Louis feels like Harry can probably see how bright her heart is glowing in her chest.

They go to their separate beds soon after that, their 'serious' talk devolving into a familiar exchange of teasing and chatter. Louis wants to pull Harry into her own room, wants to pull the towel off of her body and press her into the mattress, but she also wants to respect the fact that Harry is still thinking things through and adjusting to the emotional changes they've both been through. Louis understands entirely. She isn't necessarily ungrateful for having her own bed to herself for the first time in a couple of nights, anyway. 

She falls asleep with a head full of warm excitement.  

 

**Author's Note:**

> Storyofmythigh on tumblr. xoxoxo


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